“They should go together,” said Katie, with a sob, “but oh! not yet.”
She was not experienced enough to know whether this motionless sleep, so different from the fitful, broken slumbers of the last few weeks, was a hopeful sign or not; if her strength could be kept up, the doctor had said, and so had Miss Betsey—and perhaps she ought to wake her and give her something. As she stood looking at her, her grandfather opened his eyes.
“Grannie’s better, I think,” said she, with a quick impulse to give him comfort. “She has been sleeping quietly, and her hand is cool and moist. If you’ll bide still beside her, I’ll go and get a drop of warm milk from Brownie, to be ready when she wakes.”
If she had stayed a minute longer she must have cried at the sight of the old man’s face as he raised himself up and bent over that other face so white and still. She did cry a little when she went out, and shivered in the chill of the September morning, but she did not linger over her task. When she came in she found her grandfather risen, and standing by the bed. Her grandmother was awake now.
“Are you there, Katie? Is your tea masket? Give a cup of tea to your grandfather now; it will refresh him; and I think I could take a cup myself.”
“All right, grannie dear,” said Katie, cheerfully; “and in the meantime take a little milk,” and she held the cup to her lips. “And now, if you should fall asleep, it will be all the better till the tea be ready.”
Katie smoothed the pillows and put the bedclothes straight, and touched her lips to the white cheek; then it was turned to rest on the thin hand and grannie fell asleep. Davie rose up at Katie’s bidding, and went to get wood to kindle the fire. Katie let the curtain fall again over the open window, and softly closed the door, as she followed her grandfather out of the room.
“We’ll let her sleep,” said the old man, and he went out with slow, languid steps into the sunshine.
It was hardly sunshine yet, for though the light lay clear on the hill-tops, all the valley was in shadow, and the mist lay low along the course of Beaver River in great irregular masses, white, but with great “splatches” of colour here and there where the sun touched it. The dew lay heavy on the grass, and the garden bushes and the orchard trees, and on Katie’s flowers, and the sweet breath of green things came pleasantly to his sense as he sat down on his accustomed seat by the door.
Birds were chirping in the orchard trees, and there was the scarcely less pleasant sound of barn-door fowls near at hand. The sheep behind the pasture-bars sent their greeting over the dewy fields, and the cows in the yard “mowed” placidly as they stirred one another with soft, slow movements. How fair and peaceful the place looked! How full of calm and quiet, yet strong life!